


Interlude No. 16

by LinkWorshiper



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkWorshiper/pseuds/LinkWorshiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jimmy is clumsy; Thomas fixes problems. </p><p>Shameless PWP for Laramie's 'Things You Said' series. Tacked onto the end of the summer holiday Thomas and Jimmy take together in that. </p><p>If you don't like blood, there's some bloody booboos in this one, FYI.</p><p>Edit: fixed the accidental repetition of the story! Sorry about that!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude No. 16

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laramie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/gifts).



> ....who managed to convince me that outsourcing porn is a good idea. Love to you, my internet friend! 
> 
> Bloody cuts and stuff at the start; sexy times at the end!
> 
> VERY UNEDITED.

 

Thomas ended up carrying Jimmy all the way back to their seaside bungalow – much to Jimmy's eternal embarrassment.

They'd taken the afternoon to stroll along the shore to commemorate the end of their summer holiday, during which Jimmy had proudly declared that he was above the need for shoes. He'd taken off his brogues, hose and garters, and reveled in splashing through the ebbing seawater as it glassed across the wet sand – that is, until he'd stepped heavily on a smashed seashell and sliced open his foot. Walking a bit further down the beach had quickly revealed to Jimmy that a broken seashell shard was embedded in the wound, driving itself further into Jimmy's foot with every step he took. It throbbed enough that he soon couldn't put any weight on it at all. His legs collapsed beneath him and he fell into a grouchy pile of limbs in the sliding tide. The day had been ruined. 

“S'not all bad,” Thomas said as he fumbled with the front door of the guesthouse, just able to maneuver it open with Jimmy cradled between his forearms. He carried Jimmy over the threshold and, leaving just the screen door to swing closed behind them, then headed back towards the kitchen, saying, “Look, now we've properly christened the place.”

“Har har. Real joker, you,” Jimmy groused as Thomas set him down on the kitchen table and went to fetch the first aid box from the cupboard. The table was a big, sturdy piece of furniture, intended for a family much larger than just Thomas and Jimmy. The pair had a running joke about sitting at the head of the enormous table, wherein whoever managed to snag the place of honor at mealtime also won the honor of being called 'His Lordship' for the duration. There were times the joke got out of hand, and spilled over into other parts of their day – and often well into the night. Thomas had a particular affinity for the practice, and would miss it terribly when they returned to their little, folding Pembroke table in York.

“Oh, you don't like bein' me blushin' bride?” Thomas asked drolly, a dastardly smirk teasing his bowed mouth as he pulled a chair up to the table, first aid kit in hand.

“I'll show you blushin', Barrow,” Jimmy grumbled as he dumped the shoes he'd been carrying over the side of the table. Moodily, he spread his legs and let Thomas take up his injured foot for an inspection, refusing to allow Thomas the victory. More than anything, Jimmy hated feeling helpless, especially in the face of someone he respected and loved as much as Thomas.

Thomas snorted with amusement, his smirk growing wider as he held Jimmy by the heel of his right foot and carefully prodded at the bloody flesh. Jimmy sucked in a sharp hiss of pain, which immediately killed off Thomas's urge to tease. He kneaded Jimmy's foot with both hands for a few moments, deciding aloud, “Let me get you somethin' to soak that in.”

He stood and went to the sink, where he filled a large bowl with the hottest water the faucet could provide, and then brought it back. He balanced the bowl on his lap and guided Jimmy's injured foot into the steaming bath, gently stroking Jimmy's shin as the water grew cloudy pink at the wound's command. Jimmy's skin was smooth, yet salted from the ocean; Thomas reveled in running his fingertips up and down the contours of Jimmy's calf, the jut of his shin bone and over the cut of his pretty ankles. He could feel Jimmy start to relax beneath his touch.

After a time, armed with a tweezers from the first aid kit, Thomas removed Jimmy's foot from the water and set in to try and yank the shard from the wound. Though the flesh was softened, the shell sliver was still too small and too deep for Thomas to grasp it with the tweezers. Jimmy was wincing and pressing the ball of his other foot into Thomas's knee.

“I don't mean to hurt you,” murmured Thomas as he set the tweezers aside. He lifted Jimmy's injured foot and gently began to work his thumbs into the arch, massaging gently. He desperately loved Jimmy's feet, a juxtaposition of sinew and poise that so elegantly melded into his gorgeous legs. Thomas wanted to spend the rest of his life wrapped in Jimmy Kent's legs if he could help it.

“I know,” said Jimmy, whimpering a bit. The sound ran straight through Thomas's core.

 

Unable to resist the temptation, Thomas leaned in to kiss Jimmy's long toes, drawing each one into his mouth long enough to elicit a sigh from Jimmy as his fingers continued to articulate against Jimmy's sole. His lips slid around the pinkie toe and under the pads of his foot, carefully falling upon the wound, which he kissed and suckled at gently. The coppery taste of blood flecked against his tongue, but Thomas was resilient, far more interested in soothing Jimmy than any personal discomfort.

He drew away and carefully deposited Jimmy's foot back on his lap as he retrieved the tweezers once more. Jimmy was a sight more relaxed than he'd been when he'd first set out to patch him up, which Thomas was grateful for as he bent forward and made another attempt to pull the seashell out. The combination of hot water, massaging and his sucking mouth seemed to have done the trick, for this time, it took him almost no time at all to catch hold of the offending shard. Much to Jimmy's relief, Thomas was able to pull it out cleanly, and was soon dressing the wound with some fresh water and Vaseline. Then he wrapped Jimmy's foot in gauze and laid another kiss on the inside arch of Jimmy's foot, where there was a small freckle. Jimmy burst into giggles.

“You like that?” Thomas asked cheekily as he tried kissing other regions of Jimmy's foot, and then moved on to the other one, which dangled, forgotten, against Thomas's knee. Just as he had the first time, he adored each of Jimmy's toes, pressed his thumbs into the arches and kissed every inch of the sole, finishing with a final touch of the lips upon the spot that mirrored the freckle on Jimmy's other foot. Though it was met with a less enthusiastic response, Jimmy was still trembling with pleasure at Thomas's ministrations. “Seems the other one is where you're weak,” Thomas mused, returning to the first foot with another kiss for the freckle on its arch. Thomas let his tongue curl against the contour, reveling in the yelps of pleasure it elicited from Jimmy.

“I'm not  _weak_ ,” Jimmy insisted between sharp gasps as Thomas lavished more ardent kisses against his freckle-marked sole. He chewed his bottom lip and bent his hands around the edge of the table as his loins began to tingle with an anticipation he couldn't ever hope to ignore at the rate Thomas was going.

“You're weak for  _me_ ,” said Thomas as Jimmy began to hum with delight.

His knowing attitude, however, was quickly given its just desserts, with the press of Jimmy's discarded foot against the inside of Thomas's thigh, his toes kneading into the woolen pleating over Thomas's crotch. The unexpected touch made Thomas's breathing grow labored, and Jimmy said triumphantly, “Who's weak for who  _now_ , eh?” He smirked as the folds of fabric tightened beneath his rolling toes, an uncontrollable mark of desire that grew pinioned in the confines of Thomas's trousers with each turn of Jimmy's foot. He loved watching Thomas melt.

It seemed the time for play had ended. Grabbing Jimmy by the ankle, Thomas lifted Jimmy's foot and drew a wet trail up the back of his calf, from heel all the way to the hollow behind his knee. Along the way, he nipped and teased with a variety of kisses that ranged from feather-light grazes to little love bites that made Jimmy growl with desire. He ran his lips against the roll of trouser fabric that was bunched around Jimmy's knee, whispering against the knobbed patella, “I'm none too certain,  _Your Lordship.”_ The ghost of his breath and the tremble of his tongue against the skin made Jimmy shiver all over; “But I would like to adore you – the way you quite deserve it.”  

Jimmy's foot quivered against the crook of Thomas's thigh, his own desire becoming too heightened to be any good at keeping up with Thomas's game. Though he'd never admit it aloud, if this is what it meant to lose to Thomas, then he wouldn't even go down swinging. “And I wanna be,” Jimmy said raggedly, separating his phrases with a swallow; “Don't even have to sell me soul, neither.”

“Like you've got one to get rid of,” Thomas chuckled as he bent between Jimmy's legs, pushing them apart with his hands as he traced the outline of Jimmy's hardening cock through the fabric with the tip of his nose. Jimmy's foot fell uselessly from Thomas's person to dangle helplessly in the gap between Thomas's chair and the tabletop Jimmy perched upon. He flexed his leg muscles with a gentle rhythm, rocking lustfully against Thomas's face.

“Says the prince of darkness,” Jimmy managed to quip, even as Thomas became more aggressive in his exploration of Jimmy's crotch. His lips were bent around the contour of Jimmy's dick, massaging it through the fabric of his trousers – an extra texture that only served to drive Jimmy even more mad with desire.

“And yet, here I am to worship at your feet,” said Thomas against Jimmy's erection, the mere movement of his mouth enough to pump an erotic shock through Jimmy's veins. Salaciously, Thomas added a cheeky, “ _M'lord_.”

“Well, you know what I like,” Jimmy said in as commanding a tone as he could gather; “So make it good.”

Thomas fully intended to. With his teeth, he caught hold of the fastening button at the waistband of Jimmy's trousers, slipping it free with expert dexterity. Jimmy shrugged out of his waistcoat and suspenders and fell back on bent elbows as Thomas maneuvered the next button free of its loop with maddening slowness. Jimmy's sizable cock strained beneath the laces of his periwinkle blue boxer shorts, the thin cotton already damp with his excitement. Thomas took a moment to sit back in his chair and survey his handiwork, tempted to have a smoke while he enjoyed the view. Just the sight of Jimmy when he was in such a state – horny, half-dressed and eager – was enough to fuel Thomas for days.  

Unlike Thomas, however, Jimmy lacked patience, and wanted his lover's hands on him as soon as possible. “Get up,” he ordered Thomas. “Get up and let's see you starkers – make it quick-like!”

“Of course... m'lord,” Thomas said, reveling in the way calling Jimmy in such a way toyed with both Jimmy's senses  _and_ his ego. He got to his feet and made quick work of his own waistcoat and braces. With the straps hanging from their button loops at his sides, Thomas deftly unhitched his fly and let the iron gray garment drop to his feet. His fingers were somewhere in the process of unfastening his front collar stud when he suddenly found himself being reeled in by the loop of Jimmy's legs. The blond was sitting up straight now, leaning in to Thomas so that he could have a proper kiss on the mouth, his ever-working hands already busy beneath the tails of Thomas's shirt, grasping at the pinstriped boxers he still wore. Jimmy jerked them impatiently down Thomas's thighs, where they remained bunched just above the straps of his hose garters; Thomas, despite himself, let out a moan of pleasure when the garment was ripped over the hardness of his own erection.

Kicking his feet with excitement, Jimmy reached for the nearby jar of Vaseline, which sat with the other discarded medical supplies on the table. He threw the lid across the kitchen, mindless of where it landed, and slicked his fingers with the petroleum jelly. Then, with one arm wrapped around Thomas's waist, he pulled the taller man close enough to the edge of the table that its lip cut into the front of his thighs. He loved the way Thomas's cock peeked through the unbuttoned tails of his shirt, the way it quivered against his forearm as he reached between Thomas's legs with probing fingers. Jimmy pressed his lips against Thomas's chest, the cut of his teeth catching on one of Thomas's shirt studs as he sought to press his long digits into him.

The feel of Jimmy touching him so intimately made Thomas inhale sharply. He leaned forward and touched his forehead against Jimmy's shoulder, his weight loaded onto one stiff arm as he let Jimmy finger him. Beneath him, he could see Jimmy stroking himself through his unaccommodatingly small undergarments, and Thomas groaned at the sight, licking his lips as he anticipated having that beautiful cock for himself. “Enough of your teasin', you little devil,” Thomas growled through grit teeth as the eroticism generated by Jimmy's toying fingers grew almost unbearable. “Let us see it.  _Now._ ”

Jimmy feigned uncertainty at Thomas's request, even as he kept his fingers firmly buried within his darkhaired lover. Then, with a sudden quirk to his lips, Jimmy's free hand found the laces of his boxers, which he tugged loose with teasing slowness. The fabric parted to reveal Jimmy's straining dick, which was thick and hard and wet – and  _desperate_ for Thomas. Jimmy cupped the weight of it in his hand, squeezing the organ enough that it leaked with desire. Freeing his hand from between Thomas's legs, Jimmy groaned wantonly and reclined back onto the table. He curled his fingers at Thomas to join him.

Nearly tripping over his feet as he kicked himself out of his boxers, Thomas quickly mounted the table, shifting above Jimmy. He held himself on the heels of his hands, each of which were planted on either side of Jimmy's head, allowing himself another moment to simply admire Jimmy and the adoring way he looked up at him. He took the time to lean down for a kiss – a slow, passionate one that let him twist his tongue around Jimmy's with crushing lips.

Jimmy's arms crept around Thomas's neck to hold him fast, drinking in Thomas's tobacco-stained flavor and the sweet hint of soda pop left over from their lunch. How Jimmy ever thought that he wouldn't want to kiss Thomas every hour of every day until he was dead in his arms was nearly unfathomable: he was Jimmy's every fantasy. “Want you,” he mumbled against Thomas's blissful kiss. “Want you, need you....”

“Y'know I live to serve you,” Thomas murmured back, though the split of his grin was apparent against Jimmy's mouth. He weighed a heavy hand onto Jimmy's sternum and, after a quick detour to the Vaseline jar, reached between his legs with his other hand to wrest Jimmy's cock, which twitched with anticipation in his grip. Thomas loved the feel of it as he stroked it slick with lubricant, how its size matched Jimmy's enormous ego – how the dichotomy of the two was such a vigorous turn-on to him.

Holding Jimmy down beneath his palm, Thomas eased himself down onto Jimmy's erection. Jimmy's ardent pulse beat through him as Jimmy filled him, and Thomas began to rock gently on it, easing himself to his own pleasure. The legs of the table grunted against the tiled floor with his sway; Jimmy's dangling feet swung helplessly over the side with the build of Thomas's rhythm.

Thomas rose and fell onto Jimmy's proud manhood, the muscles in his thighs and bicep flexing with each movement. Jimmy gripped Thomas's hips, taking control of his pace with the push of his hands. Jimmy lifted his uninjured foot up to the table and cocked it against the edge for more leverage, thrusting up into Thomas with enough gusto to make a collection of little gasps crackle against the back of his throat. The table lurched a full two inches across the floor with the strength of Thomas's increasing gallop. Jimmy's lifted knee banged into Thomas's back, knocking him down onto all-fours, and Jimmy shifted the angle of his hips to keep fucking Thomas from behind.

“My big boy,” Thomas sighed as he pushed back against the piston of Jimmy's cock, careless of how the clasps of his hose garters cut into his skin. He stroked Jimmy's hair, drawing the flopping, blond curl off his brow and over the crown of his scalp; “My big, beautiful boy.” His words were strangled by the sudden onslaught of pleasure that rocketed up the length of his spine and through his every extremity. The roiling anticipation of orgasm tingled violently between his thighs and deep inside of him. He begged for Jimmy with shameless abandon – his beautiful, beautiful boy. The table screeched against the tiles, its heavy, oak frame groaning beneath the vehemence of their coupling. Jimmy accidentally kicked over Thomas's chair with a swinging foot.  

When Jimmy came, it was with an uneven gasp as he pounded into Thomas a with a final series of thrusts that were rough enough to bruise. Thomas grunted with satisfaction as he watched the elated change orgasm brought to Jimmy's face – the way his plus, red lips fell open in pleasure and the way his long eyelashes fluttered. The sight of it was almost as erotic to Thomas as the actual pleasure Jimmy's cock brought him, and he came not long after, bending down to lay ten thousand kisses on Jimmy's satisfied face. They remained like that for some time, melted on the kitchen table, kissing and simply reveling in the joy of the other one's company. In such an afterglow, there was no one else: Jimmy was made for Thomas, and Thomas for Jimmy – and that, as they say, is that.

“Shit,” Jimmy suddenly exclaimed as they lay coiled together on the tabletop, half dressed and still sweat-soaked from their lovemaking. They were sharing a cigarette.

“What is it?” Thomas asked, only half present as he took a long drag on the fag. His mind was still wandering over the particulars of their union. He'd lost count of how many interludes they'd shared at this point, but he had a feeling that this one might be added to the collection of times that were particularly memorable. It was a perfect punctuation to their holiday by the sea.

“The front door,” Jimmy was saying as he propped himself up onto his elbows. He was peering through the kitchen door, down the corridor to where the sea breeze was troubling the screen door. “You left the door  _open_.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, matching Jimmy's pose as followed the line of Jimmy's stare. He let a tiny shrug quirk his frame as he leaned over to press his fingers into Jimmy's cheek, turning him in for a kiss.

But Jimmy had become a little too anxious to sink so easily into the gesture. “What if someone – y'know – heard...  _saw_ us?” Jimmy worried, blinking up at Thomas.

Thomas snorted, tossing his shoulders again as he bent in for that kiss: “Then let's hang.”  

Jimmy smirked.


End file.
